


Three's Better

by Felixbug



Series: Breaking the Silence [9]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Spanking, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 21:28:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3911308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felixbug/pseuds/Felixbug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“I want you to hold him down,” Justice said, slipping effortlessly through Anders’ skin and leaning down to growl against Hawke’s ear. “On his back – pinned beneath your weight, helpless against your strength.”</i><br/><i>Hawke groaned, running his hands down Justice’s body to grip his ass as Justice’s hand continued to stroke him slowly and his lean body hovered above Hawke’s chest.</i><br/><i>“There are times to be gentle with him,” he continued, voice dropping almost to a purr. “And there are nights when he needs to be</i> fucked<i>, I would hear him scream, feel him writhe and strain and</i> break<i> under you.”</i></p><p>Hawke, Anders and Justice take new steps with their relationship, both in and out of the bedroom. Anders and Justice work on their communication, with sexy results. Porn with a small side of plot, this series is finally acknowledging the passage of time ;) Reading the rest of the series isn't essential, you won't be lost if you want to jump straight in here!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you're skipping the rest of the series, here's what you need to know:  
> \- Hawke is in an established relationship with both Anders and Justice  
> \- In the last fic, Unspoken, Anders and Justice were able to meet face to face in the Fade - they don't know exactly how it happened and aren't sure if they'll ever be able to do it again. They talked through most of the night, then acknowledged they had feelings for each other and had sex.
> 
> This fic contains depictions of consensual kink. There's also a brief reference to Carver's death, and references to the DA2 quest Prime Suspect, but nothing detailed at all about either.
> 
> See Also: (sfw)[ Art by arcanefeathers](http://felixbug.tumblr.com/post/118435222424/arcanefeathers-for-felixbug-in-honor-of-your)

Justice was accustomed to mental conflict – clashing thoughts, opposing desires, a storm inside a human skull that ebbed and flowed but never truly ceased. Two minds were not meant to exist as one, and even at their most united there was always a ripple of resistance that tripped them when they least expected it.

He had not thought to experience such conflict within his own mind alone. He wished it would stop.

Half of him – and at least half of Anders, too – were awash with the warm glow of relief. Hawke was laughing – apologising between snorts, but laughing nonetheless and although Justice prickled at the mockery he couldn’t help but be relieved they’d guessed correctly, Hawke wasn’t a man to slip into jealousy easily. Their relationship with him remained strong – and as for their relationship with each other, well, Justice couldn’t imagine a way that the night they’d spent walking the Fade side by side could have ended better. There were things left unspoken but then again, words weren’t the only way to communicate. They understood one another now, and better understood themselves. It would make all the difference.

But there was half of him that clawed at Anders’ skin like a trapped animal, that howled against the confines of his host turned prison, that sobbed and snarled and begged for just a moment more. That part of him half remembered lips on his and a warm body beneath him, cooling sweat and smudged ash and a desperate plea in their mingled minds for just a few more seconds. It wasn’t _enough,_ a night of talking themselves hoarse to understand the path they were set on, the slow submission to mutual need, the final desperation as every precious second ticked away. Every moment Anders’ naked body writhed against him could have been the last and he’d thought he’d held tight enough to it – thought he’d claimed enough to last, but he was consumed with mortal greed and longing. Once again, they were as close as two beings could be, and the separation was agony.

“I’m sorry,” Hawke said again, pulling Anders against his chest and pressing a kiss to his temple as Anders squirmed. “I won’t laugh anymore, I promise. Maker, love, you just made such a fuss every time _I_ suggested it.”

“I’m pretty sure dropping hints about threesomes isn’t the same as telling me you think I should sleep with Justice in the Fade,” Anders said. He hooked his leg around Hawke’s and went limp against his chest, relaxing into his arms loosely. Justice didn’t know how he could be coping with the sudden loneliness so easily – but of course, there was Hawke. For now, Justice could only observe.

“Hints? You wound me. Those were blatant requests, only my most tactless attempts will do for the men I love, I’ll have you know.”

Anders grinned, and Justice felt his mind reach out to brush against his. It wasn’t the contact he craved, but it was a thousand steps above the years he’d spent held at arms’ length. He eased forward gently, and Anders’ mind softened to accommodate him, letting him hum faintly through his fingertips. The faintest spectral shape of his hand hovered around Anders’ own, glowing softly against Hawke’s chest.

“Oh – Andraste’s ass, what are you…” Hawke gasped sharply as Justice pushed a little harder, watching the blue aura stutter a little further from the boundary of Anders’ hand.

“We’ve been working on this,” Anders said. “It’s always happened occasionally but we wanted to learn to control it – I didn’t know we were going to show you _yet_ , but – feels interesting, doesn’t it?”

“You can say that again.” Hawke covered Anders’ hand with his own, and white-blue light splintered between his fingers.

“Justice wanted to be able to touch you in a more – spirity way.”

“Spirity?” Hawke laughed. “That the technical term for this?”

“I don’t think they’ve invented technical terms for this,” Anders said, watching the light dance between their fingers. “You know, beyond ‘die, abomination, die’.”

“So,” Hawke’s tone was light but he spoke quickly – Anders’ and Justice’s status as an abomination in the eyes of the Chantry was a sore spot for both of them and, Justice thought, likely for Hawke too. “You and Justice. Is this just a kinky Fade sex thing or are you two a couple?”

“I think you have to be two actually separate people to be a couple,” said Anders. “And we’re with you, we love you, I think couple tends to imply _just_ two of you. But…” he paused, and Justice reached out with a wash of hope across his mind and an ethereal caress with his glowing hand. “I think so? As much as that’s possible.”

Justice entwined himself around the twists and bubbles of thought in Anders’ mind, pleased vibrations of energy rippling through Anders’ thoughts and feeling a welcoming glow in return. There were corners he didn’t investigate – little pockets of resentment both still held on to, memories of the pain of their joining and the uncertain images of their future – but for now there was this. Intimacy without touch, communication without words, and Hawke’s arms around them both and his lips against their neck.

“I’m so happy for you,” he said, voice heavy with the sincerity he rarely showed. “For us.”


	2. Chapter 2

It had been a long shift in the clinic. It had been busy all week – they’d allowed themselves one indulgent afternoon and night off, finally made it into the clinic two hours late the next day, and it was as if the Maker was punishing them for it. Justice shook off that thought firmly – it wasn’t his, and he didn’t want either of them thinking it. They could both do with working a little harder, and would do well to remember it, but that was no reason to get superstitious.

Justice caught a thread of worry and followed it to its tangled source, sifting through his own chaotic thoughts and Anders’ until he tugged it loose. It hadn’t always been this chaotic – usually his own thoughts were clear, sharp things, occasionally infused with passionate rage, yes, but no less orderly. He knew what he wanted, knew he would pay any price to achieve it, knew it was _just_ and _right_ and nowhere near as complicated as Anders insisted. Blood and fire, tearing the Circle down stone by stone and – Anders’ thoughts cut into his, feelings of patience, a desire for peace, and Justice returned to his task. Anders’ worry was rooted in the image of his assistant – a young, pale redhead, Halie. She hadn’t been to the clinic all week – and much as Anders’ conscious mind was certain she’d been lured away by the attention of her mysterious admirer, Justice caught the uncertainty beneath it. There was always danger in Kirkwall, and in Darktown even more.

There were others who helped from time to time but today Anders was working alone. Justice felt the tightening of his chest and the jagged edges of his thoughts and wished he could be more than a presence in his mind – a second pair of hands to carry potions and wrap bandages, someone to talk to for comfort when exhaustion set in. He did what he could, coiling through Anders’ thoughts to remind him he was close and – when no one was watching – slipping through his veins to lend him  his strength, to steady his hands, and to flicker his comforting glow across his skin.

Finally the clinic was empty and they were alone. Since that night in the Fade, Justice couldn’t quite think of it as alone anymore – alone _together._ He was endlessly fascinated by the ways relationships could change. They were no more or less merged than they had been before – minds that ran together, mingled beyond recognition, then flowed apart until they were near separate. They shifted and swirled, peaked and dipped and, at times, still clashed. Yet where there had been a gulf of silence between them, now there was understanding. Where they had been lonely, they had found comfort in each other.

Anders closed the door and locked it before heading to the back room. Few of his belongings remained here – little by little he’d allowed himself to settle into Hawke’s estate, until all that remained were the narrow, lumpy bed he’d slept on and a few old clothes too ragged to be worth taking. Anders sank back onto the bed with a sigh, staring up at the grimy ceiling above. Justice nudged at him curiously – the tunnel to the estate was close by, a short walk and they could be home – but Anders shook his head and covered his face with a groan.

“Just need to lie down,” he mumbled against his palms. “Half an hour, maybe – stop _twitching,_ Justice, you’re giving me a headache.”

Justice pushed gently – he hoped it didn’t count as twitching, but he had to do _something –_ and Anders let him manifest in a blue halo around his fingers. It was good that they’d reached this point – Anders’ trust in him had sapped the violence from the shifts in control, giving him the energy to push the boundaries that had existed for so long.

Justice’s thoughts were interrupted by another groan against his hands – relief flooded Anders’ mind along with an intoxicating spike of pleasure that swept through Justice as Anders pressed a kiss to his palm.

“And you say you can’t heal,” Anders mumbled. Justice pushed forward to feel the sensation of his hands on Anders’ skin and suddenly the pleasure wasn’t second hand. It felt as if every nerve in his scalp was being awakened, teased and stroked as if from inside his skin. The hairs on the back of Anders’ neck stood on end and he breathed sharply, dragging his fingers through his hair with Justice’s glow trailing along with them.

It wasn’t the Fade – nothing could compare to having Anders’ body in front of him, every inch laid bare for him to touch – but it was something. Anders’ eyes fluttered closed as Justice took full control of his hands, easy, gentle, dragging his fingertips over his scalp in the same way he’d eased Anders from his nightmare. He remembered wrapping himself around Anders’ shaking back, feeling sharp bones through a thin, ragged robe and realising that this was unwise - that their mutual desire would lead to only one end and that the pain of losing him again afterwards would be more than either of them could bear. He knew it, he was certain of it, but as Anders had leaned back against him Justice had let himself get lost in the moment – and in him. They had both been reckless from the start – he could risk another hard fall.

“I’m glad,” said their voice – and it was Anders and it was him and they didn’t need the words but it felt good to speak them aloud. “Even though I miss you,” Justice said, “Maker, it was worth it,” Anders finished with a groan as one of Justice’s hands balled in his hair.

Justice tugged lightly at Anders’ hair as his other hand dropped to cup his cheek, a question in his touch, a plea in his thoughts, and Anders nodded. Fingers skimmed over his lips – Justice wasn’t sure who was touching who, they mingled and gasped together as the hand dropped onto their neck. It was Justice that squeezed – brief, he would not harm his host, not even if he wanted it. He did – the unspoken urging hit Justice hard, groaning through Anders’ lips, heart pounding in their chest – their body was exhausted but Anders was forgetting that fast as their hand trailed lower. Justice – or Anders, he couldn’t tell – pressed his palm against the hardening bulge between their legs, and they shuddered together, rocked their hips, and it was Justice who broke first, sending a button pinging to the floor as he jerked his trousers open and took his length in hand.

“Justice,” Anders gasped. He thrust and Justice squeezed – both the hand on their cock and the hand in their hair, taking Anders apart with pleasure and threat, the hint of capture and the promise of release.

Justice growled in response and began to move his hand – slow, smooth strokes that made Anders’ mind burn with urgent need. Justice was no more patient, but the reward of feeling Anders beg was worth holding back. He let himself indulge on the memory of Anders beneath him in ash and embers, head thrown back, back arched, body glistening in the smoky sunlight as Justice thrust into tight, slick heat. It wasn’t the same – _Maker, this isn’t enough_ , came the answering thought _–_ but it wasn’t nothing either.

Anders’ mind took over, turning the memory into something new. They were in the clinic – Anders against the wall with his tunic bunched up in Justice’s glowing fist, trousers and underclothes crumpled around his feet still clad in boots. In the fantasy – or in reality, Justice didn’t care to find the divide – Justice was snarling and panting with every thrust. His other fist clenched in Anders hair – and _yes_ Anders could feel that, the sweet ache of Justice’s fingers tugging with every thrust – his cock pounding into the shaking, whimpering mage.

Justice snatched the thought from Anders roughly, quickening the pace with his mind and his hand. In his mind he had more – they had more – Anders arching his back to push back against him, pale flesh reddening as Justice sped up. He dropped his forehead to rest against Anders’ shoulder as he slipped an arm around his waist and pulled him flush against his chest. He imagined – remembered – felt – the way Anders’ body shuddered and strained, the silky strands of hair between his fingers as he twisted, the roughened edge to Anders voice as he begged him _harder…_

“Justice _please,_ ” and that was real, he tasted the desperation on his tongue.

Anders’ heels braced against the bed as he thrust up, Justice bit his lip until he tasted blood, and for a moment it was everything at once. Anders’ hand on his cock even as Justice adjusted his grip, Anders’ rough groan in Justice’s throat, minds entangled, empty of thought except for the blur of heat and pleasure and the raw, frantic images of Anders boneless in his grip as his body was shaken by every deep thrust. Justice pulled roughly at his hair, thrust twice more into his hand and they came hard – panting and groaning together as their cock throbbed in their grip. For a perfect, frozen moment they were one mind, so close there was no longer _us_ but only _I_. Then it was over – Anders opened his eyes to a flash of fading blue and Justice felt himself slipping back. Anders’ hands were shaking and there were streaks of glowing fluid across his fingers, and his breath was rough and quickened.

Justice tried to recapture the images their minds had created, but Anders’ thoughts had fled and neither of them could focus, exhaustion and the fading shocks of pleasure and heat thrumming in their veins. Instead he settled in Anders’ mind, feeling the warm caress of his thoughts surrounding him. It wasn’t a normal relationship – Justice wasn’t sure if it was Anders’ mind or his that worried at the thought, but each rushed to reassure the other at the same time, and Anders laughed aloud softly.  No, they weren’t normal, but they were together. That was more than something – it was _everything_. 


	3. Chapter 3

“So,” Isabela purred, sliding into the seat next to Hawke’s. “You, Anders… and Justice?”

Hawke laughed, stretching out his legs under the table. The Hanged Man was quiet enough to talk for once, a handful of drunks in various stages from laughing to mumbling, but no fights and it wasn’t as packed as it often was. Isabela had finally managed to corner him for the _chat_ she was so keen to have and, as Hawke had expected, she wasn’t planning to ease into it.

“That must be exciting,” she prompted, nudging his thigh under the table with her knee. “You know what they say – two’s company, but three is _always_ better.”

Hawke took a long gulp of his drink to buy himself a few more seconds. He wasn’t sure what he expected would change – Justice had given his wary consent to Hawke discussing their relationship with those he could trust, Anders had advised caution but agreed Isabela would be _less_ likely to gossip if she knew the truth – but finding the words was suddenly, uncharacteristically hard.

“I uh,” he grinned, forcing himself to shrug casually, “I’m not sure whoever made that claim had a Fade spirit in mind.”

“You’re _blushing,_ ” she said with a guffaw of laughter. “So is that a no then? You expect me to believe you, what, don’t like his spear of righteousness?”

“ _Maker,_ Isabela.”

“I’ve never made you blush,” she said, reaching out to ruffle his hair. Hawke snorted and ducked away. “That wasn’t even that dirty.”

“Fuck.” Hawke set his drink down and leaned back in his chair. “It’s not the easiest thing to explain.”

Isabela cackled and clapped a hand over her mouth.

“I knew it,” she said. “I knew it, I knew it – Aveline owes me five silver.”

“You bet with _Aveline?_ ”Hawke said, instantly serious.

“Wanted to rub her nose in it when I was right.” Isabela grinned. “That girl has no imagination. She said, what was it – ‘unlike some, Hawke is not a _depraved harlot_ who will lie with anything that breathes’… that’s a question, does Justice breathe?”

“Here.” Hawke rummaged through his pockets and withdrew a handful of coins, counted out five silver and slid them across the table. “Pay her off, tell her she was right.”

“Are you shitting me?” Isabela swept up the money deftly, but a little of the humour was gone from her voice. “Not like you to miss a chance to mess with her.”

“I stopped _messing_ with Aveline a while ago,” said Hawke. “I don’t tread on her toes, she doesn’t tread on mine.”

“That bad?” Isabela grimaced. “I know you don’t always see eye to eye, but…”

“You could say that,” Hawke said. “But since I heard she’s handing apostates over to the Templars it’s gone a little beyond that. Look, I got her out of Ferelden. Probably saved her life. She won’t move against me unless I provoke her, we even still work together from time to time – she’s got me looking into some Templar with a fixation, embarrassment to the guard, I don’t know… but this – thing, it’s…” He shoved his drink away, good humour evaporating. “There’re lines no one loyal to the Chantry can really overlook me crossing.”

Hawke didn’t let his anger show often, but when it came to the Templars it was too personal to shrug off with a joke. Since losing Bethany to the Circle his ability to hide his hatred of them had shrunk away to nothing. His hands curled into fists on the table and Isabela reached out to wrap her smaller, darker fingers over his own.

“Well, it certainly is deliciously blasphemous,” Isabela said – she always knew the right way to bring out a smile in anyone. Hawke caught her grin and managed a weak chuckle. “So, you’ve paid my debt,” she jingled her purse, “but that doesn’t cover my winnings. Gold or gossip, Hawke. I want all the details.”

“I will tell you _some_ details,” he grinned. “But this doesn’t get back to Aveline, or Sebastian, or – honestly, probably best not to tell anyone. Especially Varric, I don’t need to know what kind of story he’d turn this into.”

“Mm yes, the mighty warrior – ah, Eagle? And his lover, a spirit named… balls, they’re all virtues aren’t they? That’ll never do. Oo, we could call him _Lustice_.”

“Please, _please_ stop,” Hawke groaned. “I’ll tell you anything you want.”

“Alright.” Isabela curled up in her seat with a smirk. “Start at the beginning. I want to know how you charmed a spirit into your bed.”

“Funny story. It was actually the other way around…”


	4. Chapter 4

Hawke shuffled through the letters on his writing desk with a sigh. Invitations to various hideously dull parties, and a note in Bodahn’s handwriting letting him know Aveline had stopped by to check on his progress with Emeric. Hawke scowled and crumpled it, then flicked it off the desk.  He’d met with the Templar – as vile as all of them and less efficient than most – shortly after his afternoon with Isabela. That had been a few days ago, he was in no rush to humour the paranoid man’s fears or stir up scandal in Hightown, but he supposed having a Templar indebted to him and out of his hair was worth the effort. He’d go tomorrow.

Hawke looked down at the crumpled ball of paper on the floor. He was doing this for his own reasons, not for Aveline. He refused to think about the journey to Kirkwall, hunched in on himself deep in the ship, holding down vomit as the waves pitched it back and forth. He wouldn’t remember the way his mother had avoided him, unable to look him in the eye, still blaming him even after she’d apologised – promised it wasn’t his fault when they both knew it was. Carver was gone, their home was gone, he was all that was left to stand between Bethany and the Templars in a strange city and he was terrified. It wasn’t Leandra who’d sought him out, and even Bethany had spent more time with their mother than with him. It was Aveline who coaxed him into talking, deep in her own mourning for Wesley she’d still cared enough to try to take care of him.

“You are distressed.”

Hawke turned at the sound of Justice’s voice, watching his glowing form approach down the stairs. He was barefoot, and dressed casually in close-fitting black trousers and one of Hawke’s shirts open to part way down his chest. The shirt should have looked ridiculous – it was far too big – but the blue silk was stunning against his pale skin, shimmering in Justice’s bright glow and almost slipping off his shoulder to one side. Hawke smiled, and strode away from the desk to slip an arm around Justice’s waist as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

“You could tell that?”

“No.” Justice touched Hawke’s face – Hawke thought it was meant as an affectionate gesture but it felt more curious, as if he was studying his features. “Anders can read you. He helps me understand. I wish it were more simple – you do not tell him when you are suffering. You do not tell me.”

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Hawke said. “I’d tell you if it was.”

“You _hurt._ It is important to me.” His voice echoed on the final word – Justice growled, intense and protective, but it was Anders whose voice was softer, hurting along with him. It was disorienting to hear, but reassuring too.

“It’s…” Hawke would have thought nothing of shrugging it off if it was Anders alone asking the question, but Justice couldn’t understand harmless deception, and he could always tell when Hawke tried. “Do you ever get frustrated with people? People you know are good but they’re just – on the wrong side?”

“If they are unjust, they are not good.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice?” Justice’s eyes narrowed and Hawke leaned in close to kiss his furrowed brow. “I’m sorry, Justice. You know it’s just – mortals are a bit more complicated than that.”

“Justice is not complicated.”

“He certainly is,” Hawke laughed, running his hand through Justice’s hair. “It’s nothing to worry about, I promise. Bad memories, and I’ve got to do a favour for Aveline tomorrow. That paranoid Templar I mentioned, I’m going to close up his investigation, quiet things down.”

“You are running errands for a Templar? For the corrupt guards that serve them?” Justice’s eyes flashed and his voice deepened.

“I’m sending an extremely watchful Templar _out of Hightown_ ,” said Hawke. “As for Aveline I – I’m not always good at letting go of old loyalties.”

“Your loyalty to your friends is virtuous,” Justice said, his blinding glare softening. He leaned into Hawke’s touch, and placed both his hands on Hawke’s shoulders to gently draw him closer. “I – we, that is – had planned something for this evening if you are – I am uncertain, I did not anticipate your sadness. We should talk, I should let Anders speak to you, he knows better than I how to…”

“You’re doing fine,” Hawke said quickly. “It’s not about who’s _better –_ Maker knows I’m bad at this too. Honestly, I’m alright – why don’t you tell me about these plans of yours.” Justice looked concerned and Hawke gave him a wide grin. “Take my mind off it?”

“You are assuming these plans are sexual in nature,” Justice said flatly. “Even I am able to read that in your tone.”

“Am I wrong?”

“…you are not.”

Hawke chuckled and leaned in close, teasing Justice with just the faintest brush of his lips on his. Justice growled low in his chest and his fingers dug into Hawke’s shoulders. Hawke could feel the thick tension in the air that surrounded Justice and the almost imperceptible hum from his skin.

“Are you going to take me upstairs, or should I dramatically sweep everything off the desk?”

“Upstairs,” Justice said firmly. He took Hawke’s hand, interlacing their fingers as he turned to climb the stairs, with Hawke eagerly following.

Once shut away in Hawke’s room, Justice’s confidence seemed to falter. He looked down at their joined hands and released Hawke’s with a sigh, then paced away to sit on the bed with his back rigidly straight. Hawke joined him, resting a hand on his thigh.

“Not like you to be nervous.”

“Kristoff’s memories were clear,” Justice said. “He was with Aura. She was with him. There was no other, not for either of them. I – do not believe my relationship with Anders has weakened my feelings for you, perhaps because we are joined or perhaps because I am different.” He looked at Hawke, tilting his head. “As you are different. You do not love in the same way Kristoff did - just as strongly, but in a different way.”

“Never really understood that kind of relationship,” Hawke admitted. “It’s not like I – I’m not going to go looking elsewhere, if that’s what you’re worried about. The two of you are more than enough for me – and if you hadn’t been interested, I’d have been happy to just be with Anders. But I don’t do jealousy, it’s not my style.”

“Anders is more like Kristoff.”

“I know – I’m fine with that.”

“But he is fine with _this_. How?”

“Maybe you’re just special?” Hawke offered Justice his hand and Justice took it again, cautiously. “If I’m happy, and you’re happy, and he’s happy, is there really a problem?”

“I am afraid. If my relationship with Anders complicates things more – if you and he become unhappy, if I lose either one of you.” Justice squeezed Hawke’s hand – it hurt a little, but he didn’t pull back. “I could not bear it.”

“I like complicated.” Hawke squeezed Justice’s hand in return, then flinched as the movement made his bones grind. “Ah – my hand, Justice…”

“I apologise,” he said, softening his grip.

“It’s alright. Feeling better?”

“I am reassured.” Justice traced small circles against Hawke’s hand with his thumb, the faintest rumble of a contented purr rising in his throat. “You are endlessly patient – we appreciate it more than either of us can say.”

“Not _endlessly,_ ” Hawke said, nudging Justice’s thigh with his. “I’m dying to know what you’ve got planned for me.”

“Anders and I have been working on control,” Justice said. “On separating ourselves within our body – and existing together without struggle – on finding ways to be intimate without entering the Fade. We have been successful.” He met Hawke’s gaze, studying his reaction. “If this is still something you want, Anders would like you to join us tonight.”

Hawke managed not to blurt out the immediate thought of _oh sweet fucking Maker yes please,_ but his sharp breath and the way his hand tightened against Justice’s probably gave him away. The thought of what Anders’ and Justice’s experiments in control might have looked like flooded his mind, followed by the realisation that he didn’t have to imagine, they were going to _show_ him, they were going to _involve_ him, and he should probably answer sometime soon instead of staring at Justice with his mouth hanging open.

“Well – yes,” he managed, and rather than risk making a fool of himself babbling he slipped his free hand around the back of Justice’s neck and pulled him close enough to kiss.

Justice’s nervousness evaporated rapidly, he growled against Hawke’s lips and his hands were quickly wandering under Hawke’s shirt. They fizzed slightly against his skin and Hawke realised he could feel the strange, skin-tingling touch of Justice’s essence as it separated slightly from Anders’ fingers. He moaned into Justice’s mouth and was rewarded by a sharp nip of his lower lip – Justice tugged at it until Hawke whimpered then surged forward again to deepen the kiss. Hawke let Justice kiss him roughly, exploring his mouth with sharp growls and skilled flicks of his tongue as Hawke melted against him. The lyrium taste of Justice’s lips built until it was overwhelming, then faded abruptly as a soft moan replaced Justice’s voice.

Hawke pulled back a little – the face in front of him was glowing faintly, light trapped just beneath the skin with every vein faintly lit in blue – but the eyes were warm amber and the natural, easy smile on his lips was definitely Anders’.

“Look I’m just going to apologise in advance,” Hawke said. “There’s a good chance I’m going to say the wrong name at some point tonight and I don’t know which of you would take that _worse_ so…”

“There is no wrong name,” Anders said, and it was his voice but there was a deep rasp behind it that definitely _wasn’t_. “We are both present.”

Anders kissed him, nimble fingers making short work of the buttons of his shirt and pushing it open with a groan. One hand conjured soft, warm sparks against his chest, the other hummed with Justice’s raw energy as it slipped down his side to grip his hip firmly. Hawke tried to keep track of the roaming hands – a sharp jolt when Anders’ playful sparks spiked out of control briefly as Justice took over, a soothing caress over reddened skin that must have been Anders – but he soon gave up and surrendered himself to the rush of conflicting sensation. The lyrium taste on Anders’ tongue would ebb then surge, strong enough to make his teeth ache one moment, almost absent the next. One hand gripped his hair roughly and tugged his head to the side as Anders – Justice – _Maker,_ someone incredible – bit and sucked his way up Hawke’s neck to breathe against his ear.

“Anders has a fantasy,” Justice said. “You and I both make him beg so beautifully. The idea of what we could do together…”

“Honestly, it’s terrifying,” Anders said, the sudden change sending a pulse through the air around them and a jolt of pleasure racing down Hawke’s spine. “And I love it.”

“Show me,” said Hawke, forcing himself to pull back.

It was hard – all he wanted was to tear Anders’ clothes off himself and take him – both of them – now. But some things were worth being patient. Hawke settled himself against the headboard, his shirt hanging open, sprawled back against the pillows. Anders’ faintly glowing form followed, kneeling upright between his legs with a playful smile. He raised his arms above his head, making the shirt ride up to show the soft trail of hair leading down his belly.

“Show you?” Anders said. “Show you what?”

“Don’t tease.”

Anders’ eyes closed and, as Hawke watched, glowing cracks branched across his arms, racing from shoulder to fingertip. They glowed through the fabric of the shirt as if it wasn’t there, lighting the room in brilliant blue. One hand shot up to curl lightly around Anders’ throat, the other slid down his chest to unfasten his shirt, then slide over the exposed skin to circle his nipples, trail down his chest and spark suddenly against his hips.

“Fuck – oh fuck, Justice _yes,_ ” he groaned, arching his back.

The hand around his neck slid up to stroke his cheek – softly at first, then turning to an iron grip that dented his skin and forced his mouth open. Anders whined faintly, his voice turning to an eager moan as Justice’s second hand joined the first and thrust his fingers between Anders’ lips.

Hawke wished he’d undressed more – his cock was uncomfortably confined. He breathed harshly as he loosened his trousers and pushed them down low on his hips. He watched Anders suck his – Justice’s – fingers, taking them deep into his mouth and groaning around them as Justice thrust between his lips. Hawke wished he could have been with them in the Fade – the thought of Justice’s cock replacing his fingers, standing above Anders’ body and thrusting into his mouth with rough gasps was tempting enough to make Hawke wrap his hand around his cock and begin to stroke slowly.

Anders’ eyes fluttered open to watch Hawke as he let his fingers slide free, trailing saliva across his chin. His eyes flashed and when he spoke, he was all Justice.

“If you could see what hides within his mind…” He gasped, raking his nails down his chest and arching against his own hand as the skin reddened under his nails. “I hold back from the things he wants – I can give him a little of the pain he craves, but I am uncomfortable with the power over him he offers. You can give him more.”

“I will,” Hawke groaned. “Oh, I fucking will. Just let me watch a little more. Make him beg, Justice.”

Ander’s body twitched, jerking as if struck by lightning. Cracks raced over his skin – branching and blooming then fading, shifting in and out as Anders was thrown forward onto his hands and knees, face inches from Hawke’s cock, loose hair hanging around his face. He gasped as one hand groped between his legs, his trousers and underclothes were shoved down around his thighs roughly, and he looked up to meet Hawke’s eyes as Justice slapped his ass hard.

“Oh – oh _yes_ , Justice,” Anders groaned.

Justice spanked him again, rocking his body forward with the impact. Hawke gathered Anders’ hair in his fist to keep it out of his face, watched him flushed, panting, biting his lip as his own hand struck him again and again, leaving his ass covered in reddening imprints of each blow. Anders writhed under Justice’s control and Hawke’s tight grip, he bit his lip and arched his back. His ass was presented beautifully, the curve of his spine thrusting it up for Justice to slap again and again.

“He wants…” Anders’ scream was muffled by his teeth sinking into his lip as his palm came down again with a sharp crack. “Oil…” his eyes shone with barely held back tears as Justice hit him again, hard enough his hand braced against the bed wavered and he almost collapsed against Hawke. “He wants to fuck me.”

Hawke reached over and grabbed the bottle from the table, pressing it into the glowing hand that reached for it. Justice coated his fingers and reached back, and Hawke could watched as his wrist jerked and Anders moaned, rocking back against his hand.

“How many fingers?” Hawke asked, stroking his cock again and tugging at Anders’ hair until he looked up to meet his eye.

“Just one for now but he’s – nngh – he’s doing that _glow_ and it’s – fuck, Garrett.” He cried out sharply as his hand shifted, back arched and thighs shaking as he drove himself back against it.

“Is that two?”

“Yes,” said Justice, his eyes flashing as he stared up at Hawke. “He is begging in his mind but his tongue is not yet broken enough to tell you, he aches for more – to be thrown down, used roughly by you, by me, by us both.” Justice groaned, rocking back against each thrust of his fingers every bit as eagerly as Anders.

“Give it to him hard,” Hawke growled. The light in Justice’s eyes flashed briefly for a second then faded, and Anders was back, gasping and shaking as his hand sped up, pounding into him and making him whimper each time Justice’s fingers slammed into him.

 “This alright, love?” Hawke released Anders’ hair for a moment to gently run his thumb over his cheekbone. Anders turned to kiss his palm and nodded against his hand.

“So fucking good,” he murmured. “ _Maker_ he could make me come like this – just with his fingers – oh, fuck, Garrett I need…”

“Tell me.” Hawke slid his hand up through Anders’ hairline and gathered a fistful of blond strands. “We’ll give you what you want, you just have to ask.”

“Your cock,” Anders said, looking up at Hawke through his lashes.

“You can ask better than that,” he said with a smirk, tugging sharply at Anders’ hair until he hissed.

“Please, Garrett – let me suck you.”

“Not bad.”

“Fuck my mouth, please, I need you to come down my throat – oh fuck, _Maker_ , Justice...” Anders’ eyes screwed shut and his voice caught on a broken moan.

Hawke sat up and saw Justice had slid a third finger into him and was still thrusting hard, oil glistening on his hand and a blue aura shimmering around his fingers as they plunged into Anders’ stretched hole. Hawke jerked Anders forward by the hair, pressing his face against his cock as he watched the glowing hand opening him, fucking him, making him shudder and moan against Hawke and mouth eagerly at his cock.

“Ready?” Hawke asked, and at Anders’ broken _yes_ , he held him in place and thrust up into his hot, wet mouth.

Hawke gave him a moment to adjust – panting and adjusting his grip in Anders hair as Anders slowly sank down his cock. He felt it nudge the back of Anders’ throat and Anders gagged, breathed hard through his nose, shoulders shaking, then moved forward again to swallow and take him into his throat. Hawke gripped Anders’ hair with both hands – no pressure, not yet, but he was aching to move. Anders’ body was still rocked by the firm thrusts of his fingers, and his low moans vibrated deliciously against Hawke’s cock as he swallowed around him. Anders looked up into Hawke’s eyes, his lips stretched around the impressive thickness, face flushed and drool gathering at the corner of his mouth. Hawke tightened his fingers with a twist in Anders’ hair and with a sharp tug Anders was moving – helpless in Hawke’s hands as he began to fuck his mouth.

He knew Anders’ limits well – he dragged his mouth down his cock again with a rough grunt and felt him moan around him. He fell back against the pillows again, sharp jerks of Anders’ head speeding up as Hawke threw his head back with a groan. Anders’ mouth was too good – the perfect combination of the tight heat of his throat, the eager swipes of his tongue and the slick drool coating Hawke’s cock every time Hawke let him pull off the tip to breathe. Hawke looked down at him, his own chest heaving as Anders took a deep, hoarse breath, nodded against Hawke’s hand and was dragged down again until his nose was buried in dark, coarse hair.

It was becoming overwhelming fast – the glow shifting and flickering over Anders’ skin, the slap of Justice’s oiled fingers thrusting even harder, the eager, wet sounds of Anders’ mouth – Hawke bit his lip and clenched his fists as he began to thrust up to meet every descent of Anders’ head. The mage was quivering, tears and drool streaking his flushed face.

“You like that?” Hawke panted, and Anders’ muffled whine was all the answer he needed. “Show me – come for me, Anders. Oh – Andraste’s fucking tits that’s…” Hawke groaned as he felt a pulse of raw heat in his cock – he couldn’t last much longer. “Come for us.”

Blue light branched from Anders’ straining shoulder across his back. It raced down his spine, glowing through his shirt, and his back bowed until Hawke thought he might break. His body was taut and trembling as Justice’s fingers thrust harder – harder – the outline of Justice’s ghost-like hand working with physical fingers. Anders whimpered around Hawke’s cock and his muffled cry became a choked scream. Hawke’s strong grip in his hair was all that kept him from collapsing – he was helpless between Justice’s hand and Hawke’s cock, they filled him, pushed and pulled him between them, and he screamed again. His throat tightened against the head of Hawke’s cock, and Hawke felt the faintest scrape of teeth as he lost control, coming undone at Justice’s touch and Hawke’s command.

A few more quick, sharp thrusts and Hawke was right there with him, arching against the pillows as he rammed his cock home between Anders’ lips one more time. The building heat shattered into white-hot pleasure that raced across his skin, he hooked one leg across Anders’ back to hold him in place and rode out his orgasm with weak, uneven thrusts into Anders’ mouth.

Hawke released him, and Anders – Justice – the flickering, faintly-glowing body that was the two of them – rolled onto his back next to Hawke with a hoarse groan. Hawke took a moment to strip out of his clothing, and Anders did the same before flopping back down against the pillows. Hawke propped himself up on one elbow beside him and ran his hand gently over his – their – heaving chest.

“Maker, you’re amazing,” Hawke said. “Both of you – that was…”

“Was?” It was Anders’ eyes and Anders’ voice, but Justice’s raw strength in the hands that braced against Hawke’s chest and rolled him firmly onto his back. “We’re not done yet.”

Justice claimed his mouth roughly, all teeth and guttural growls as he straddled Hawke’s body. His ass dripped oil onto Hawke’s still painfully sensitive cock and Hawke gasped against his lips, reaching up to grip his hips. Justice’s hands were on his chest – one teasing his left nipple, the other gripping the soft flesh at his waist hard enough to bruise – the other – Hawke tensed, pulling away from the kiss to look down at his body. Two warm, solid, human – if slightly glowing – hands were on his body, along with a faint blue shape that peeled away from the right hand to skim low on his belly.

“Justice you’re…”

“Yes,” said Anders breathlessly. “He’s been working on this with me. You wouldn’t believe how good it feels…”

“But you’ll find out,” Justice said, eyes burning as he stared down at Hawke. “May I touch you, like this?”

“As if you even need to ask.”

“I do.” Justice tilted his head. “I can feel Anders’ desires – he shows me in his mind, he begs without words and he – I can feel that he wants me.” He took a shaky breath, and for a moment the blue glow vanished from his eyes only to come back stronger, brighter. “He loves me.”

“You know I do too…”

“Yes.” Justice smiled – Hawke could see the strain in it, it was still a slightly unsettling imitation, but it was _Justice_ and Hawke couldn’t imagine him any differently. “But I cannot hear you inside my skin. I cannot anticipate what you need before you ask for it. I need your words.”

“You can touch me,” Hawke said.

Something Hawke could only think of as solid light wrapped around his cock, and Hawke groaned. The hand felt insubstantial, there was no sense of touch exactly – but his softening cock was lifted and he felt waves of intense tingling sliding up and down as Justice stroked him. He looked down to watch the hand move, then fell back against the pillows with his eyes shut – Maker, that looked strange. He wouldn’t think about it, he relaxed into the sensations, oversensitive and still soft but his body had never felt anything quite like this and was beginning to respond.

Justice kissed him, and as his tongue swiped over Hawke’s lips he tasted – felt – somehow sensed the change. One of Anders’ hands slid up his body and ran gently through is hair, the other descended to join the warm hum around his cock. He felt a cool, soothing rush of magic and he was suddenly painfully hard again in their dual grip.

“Thought you could use a hand,” Anders murmured against his lips.

Hawke chuckled and pulled Anders down against his chest, arms wrapped tight around the skinny, squirming mage as he kissed him back eagerly, sucking on his lower lip until Anders moaned.

“You doing okay, love?” Hawke asked as Anders pulled back.

“Better than okay,” he grinned.

“I just know you had some doubts.” Hawke cupped Anders’ cheek, tracing the glowing veins and feeling the scratch of stubble against his palm. “And honestly, I hadn’t planned for it to be like this – not the first time at least. If you need to slow down.”

“Maker, no,” Anders breathed. “The two of you together it’s – I can’t even describe – _fuck,_ Justice…”

Hawke raised his eyebrow – Anders’ hands were still on him, Justice only visible as the faint glow through his skin and the halo of light around one hand.

“It’s like talking dirty,” said Anders, and he bit his lip with a low groan, eyes fluttering closed. “He’s showing me what he wants – it’s so good, I couldn’t picture anything like this on my own – so clear and so…” he gasped, and dipped his hips to grind his length against Hawke’s, making both of them groan. He was most of the way back to hard already - the combined advantages of being both a Warden and a mage. “It’s like I’m being fucked in my mind.”

“So – what does he want?” Hawke tried for playful but his tone settled somewhere around desperate. His cock was throbbing urgently as Anders’ slow, teasing strokes drove him wild.

“I want you to hold him down,” Justice said, slipping effortlessly through Anders’ skin and leaning down to growl against Hawke’s ear. “On his back – pinned beneath your weight, helpless against your strength.”

Hawke groaned, running his hands down Justice’s body to grip his ass as Justice’s hand continued to stroke him slowly and his lean body hovered above Hawke’s chest.

“There are times to be gentle with him,” he continued, voice dropping almost to a purr. “And there are nights when he needs to be _fucked,_ I would hear him scream, feel him writhe and strain and _break_ under you.”

“That can be arranged,” Hawke said, and he nipped at Justice’s earlobe just to hear that beautiful, urgent catch in his breath.

“Give him more than he can stand – and make him beg for more,” Justice urged. He released Hawke’s cock to grab him firmly by the hip and shoulder, and rolled onto his back pulling Hawke with him.

“What about…” Hawke gasped as Justice’s hand curled around his cock again and guided it between his legs. “You – this isn’t what you like.”

“I like feeling Anders submit. That is enough.” Justice’s teeth flashed very white in his blinding glare, a triumphant snarl as he ran his nails over Hawke’s neck – not hard enough to break the skin, but definitely hard enough to feel. “So long as you desire this…”

“Yes,” Hawke said quickly, “Oh _yes._ ”

He gripped Justice’s thighs, gripped hard and forced them apart. Justice caught his eye, held it, and then it was Anders’ eyes looking back at him, Anders drawing his lip between his teeth with a shuddering groan.

“Keep your legs spread wide,” Hawke said roughly, skimming one hand down to grope Anders firm ass and coating his cock in oil with the other.

Anders nodded, and his hips rocked up as he spread his legs further, pulling his thighs back. Hawke’s hand tightened around his cock at the sight, Anders’ ass spread out for him, loosened from Justice’s fingers and ready to sink into. Anders’ cock lay heavily against his flat stomach, still streaked with faintly glowing fluids and with a bead of liquid forming at the tip. Hawke stroked himself as he ran his hand over Anders’ ass, fingers skimming over his entrance and feeling oil seep over his fingertips. Anders gasped sharply, and Hawke slid two fingers into him with a sharp jerk of his wrist.

Anders practically wailed – Hawke couldn’t believe he’d used to think Anders would never make a sound – unrestrained, overwhelming pleasure leaving his legs trembling. Hawke hooked his fingers and Anders shuddered, drawing his bruised lip between his teeth again.

“That good?” Hawke chuckled. “You sound like you don’t even need my cock.”

“I do – I do…” Anders panted harshly as Hawke slid a third finger into him – he didn’t need to be prepared at all, he was ready, but teasing him was too good to miss. “Justice is showing me – Maker, it’s like having you both at once – your fingers and his and I – I know he’s only in my mind but I can _feel_ it.”

“You’re going to be feeling it for the next week,” Hawke said. He withdrew his fingers and with a smooth, steady thrust, he was inside him.

Hawke braced a hand on each of Anders’ thighs, squeezing firmly and pushing them apart and set a rough pace, sharp thrusts that jolted Anders’ body as Hawke’s cock pounded into him. He gave him no time to adjust to the quick, deep strokes, each one punctuated by the ringing slap of skin on skin, Hawke’s harsh grunts and Anders’ low moans.

“Yes – oh yes, harder Garrett,” Anders groaned, reaching for his shoulder. Hawke released one thigh and grabbed Anders’ wrist, rocked forward and pinned it above his head with a growl.

“Harder?” he grinned. His bulk kept Anders’ legs spread wide and effectively pinned him against the bed. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes…” Anders’ voice caught in his throat as Hawke quickened his thrusts, driving Anders’ ass down into the mattress. The solidly built bed rocked under his momentum, the creak of wood mingling with Anders’ shaken cries as Hawke’s violent thrusts slammed into Anders’ eager body.

Hawke felt a prickling down his spine, a sudden snap of tension through the air and felt Anders’ wrist flex in his grip, suddenly feeling stronger, impossibly so. Glowing blue eyes stared up at him, a snarl curling Justice’s lips. Justice’s free hand snaked around Hawke’s back and fingernails dug into his shoulder – just lightly, a question – and Hawke’s gasp of _please_ became a loud groan as Justice clawed at his back.

“He needs more,” Justice growled, dragging Hawke down by the back of the neck until they were eye to eye. “He feels your cock stretching him, filling him, but I do not merely want him satisfied – I want him utterly spent. Please – I need you to fuck him into the bed – make his release such an urgent need that it is torment – pound him until he is sore and shaking and sobbing under you.”

Hawke kissed him, groaning as the taste of the Fade hit his tongue, the lyrium-like taste of bitter copper and something otherworldly, a reminder that Justice was contained by mortal skin, but was much, much more. He hissed against Hawke’s lips as Hawke slammed his cock into him, then pulled away to bite at Hawke’s jaw, his neck, his shoulder, muffled groans vibrating against Hawke’s skin and in a blue flash he was gone again. Anders’ body fell back against the bed panting, his pinned wrist twisting in Hawke’s grip.

Hawke pumped his cock into him a few more times, then slid out of him leaving Anders whimpering. He released Anders’ wrist and rocked back on his knees, looking down at the panting mage. Hawke looked over Anders’ flushed, glistening body, the flickers of blue light with every heaving breath and the beads of sweat amongst the scattered dusting of hair on his chest.

“You’re beautiful,” Hawke said hoarsely, stroking the back of Anders’ thigh. “You’re going to look even better covered in my come.”

“Yes,” Anders gasped, reaching for Hawke’s cock. Hawke laughed and swatted his hand away.

“Patience,” he growled. He gripped Anders by the ankles and tugged him sharply towards him, stepped off the bed and gave another sharp tug to bring Anders’ hips to the edge.

Anders gasped as Hawke flipped him over, thrusting against the crumpled sheets with soft, muffled cries. Hawke let him – he wasn’t there to tease, he was more interested in the lean ass presented to him, still reddened from Justice’s blows. Hawke ran his hand over the fading prints, squeezing roughly at a particularly flushed patch which made Anders bury his face in the sheets and moan.

“Think you can take a little more?” Hawke asked, gently tapping Anders’ ass.

“Yes – oh fuck yes, Garrett.”

Hawke brought his hand down hard, the loud crack almost muffled Anders’ whimper, but it did nothing to hide the scream the second slap dragged out of him. Hawke ran his hand over the sore skin, his cock throbbing as he felt Anders’ ass tremble under his fingers. He couldn’t draw this out any longer. With a rough, needy groan, he slid his cock into him again.

Anders’ fists balled in the sheets and he couldn’t hold back his moans as Hawke returned to his fast, punishing pace, one hand pressing down on the back of Anders’ neck to pin him flat against the bed and the other resting on his ass, feeling the way his thighs shook and his ass clenched under the hard, powerful thrusts. Hawke gave him no room to move, watching the pulses of blue flicker across Anders’ skin and listening to his muffled cries. Maker, he wanted to hear him – Hawke grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked Anders’ head back, arching his back off the bed.

He spanked Anders again, a vicious blow that made his whole body flinch and then jerk forward as Hawke followed it up with another hard thrust. Anders screamed, and Hawke rocked forward to bite his shoulder hard, relishing Anders’ eager shudder against his body. He straightened up reluctantly – it was good to feel Anders’ body against him, but even better to watch the way his cock plunged into him, the way his skin reddened when he spanked him again, see him bite his lip and whimper as he took everything Hawke gave him.

He settled into a rhythm – each thrust that drove Anders’ hips into the bed was followed by a ringing slap that made him flinch and writhe. Hawke’s own groans were getting louder, he could feel his orgasm building but he held back.

“Tell me what’s happening in your head,” Hawke choked out. “Tell me about Justice.”

“He’s showing me – imagining – he’s fucking me.”

“Pretending I’m him?”

“No – nngh – no it’s like – like being in two places at once, here and with him – I can feel you both – I need you both oh fuck Garrett _please._ ”

Hawke hit him again, tugged his hair sharply and put everything he had into every thrust. Every time Hawke’s body slammed against Anders’ he was jerked forward, then pulled back by Hawke’s hand in his hair, and another slap to his firm ass finally broke him and he choked on a sob.

“You still good?” Hawke murmured, leaning in close.

“Yes,” Anders gasped out. Tears trickled down his face but he looked no less eager, face beautifully flushed and his lips parted.

Hawke sank his fingers into the bruised flesh of Anders’ ass and gave him a few more hard thrusts – he wanted to come buried in his hot, slick flesh, feel Anders clench around him, but there was something he wanted more. He pulled out sharply, drawing another broken little sob from Anders, and hauled him back by the hair until he slid off the bed onto his knees. Hawke spun him around roughly, fingers twisted in his hair and forcing him to arch his back, face upturned. Anders’ cock strained between his legs, his face was streaked with tears but there was an eager smile playing at his lips and his tongue darted out over his lower lip as he looked up at Hawke – _Andraste’s ass_ he knew what he was doing. Hawke stopped fighting the building tension, his fist a blur around his thick cock as his thighs began to shake and his pulse thudded in his ears. Anders’ eyes shut, and Hawke thought he caught a brief flash of blue beneath the lids.

Hawke groaned and leaned forward, dragging Anders’ face close as the rush of white-hot pleasure peaked. His cock was throbbing against his palm and he breathed raggedly, shaking as the first splash hit Anders’ face, dripping over his lips. Anders’ tongue slipped out again to catch the sticky strands and Hawke’s cock pulsed, another streak landed across Anders’ cheek and ran down his neck.

Anders opened his eyes – there was that flash again, brief but urgent – and ran his tongue over his lips again.

“Justice will let me come if you will,” he said – his voice was hoarse from the sounds Hawke had forced from it, and his breath was quick. “Please, Garrett.”

“Yes.” Hawke didn’t think he could have found more words if his life depended on it, he felt as if his mind had melted, and the sight of Anders’ face was likely to keep him incoherent for a while longer. Maker he looked good – thoroughly well-fucked and still eager for more.

Anders’ hand flared bright, cracks spiralling around his forearm and down over his fingers, and he took hold of his length with a dual-voiced moan and another flash across his eyes. Hawke released his hair and dropped to his knees, watching Anders – Justice – stroke his cock. As Hawke watched he rocked back on his knees, back arched, and groaned Hawke’s name in a voice that was not quite human, not quite spirit, but all familiar. With one last jerk of their hips to thrust up into their hand, Anders and Justice came together with a ragged cry.

The glow faded – still present but dimmer, letting Anders take control. If he hadn’t been so exhausted, Hawke might have been tempted to shove him down on the floor and start all over again – Hawke and Justice’s mingled fluids streaked his body, his pale skin was flushed a delicate pink and his hair was tousled. Hawke wanted to lick him clean, bend him over and make him scream. He also wanted to sleep for at least a weak.

He settled for a compromise, making Anders gasp in surprise as he wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him to the floor, reaching up to pull a crumpled mass of bedsheets down on top of them. Hawke nuzzled against Anders’ neck, feeling the deep vibration of Anders’ chuckle as his arms wound around him.

“It’s probably good we can’t take you into the Fade,” Anders said. “I think I might actually _die_ if you two could get your hands on me at once.”

“You love it,” Hawke mumbled, trailing kisses up Anders’ neck. “Justice have fun?”

“Mm, yes.” Hawke caught a flash of blue through his closed eyelids, and he felt Justice’s arms tighten around him. “Our body is extremely sore, you should encourage Anders to rest.”

“What do you think we’re doing?”

“You are lying on the floor,” Justice said flatly. “This will not reduce soreness – if you will not assist him I will make him clean himself and return to the bed.”

“Mmph,” Hawke huffed against his shoulder. “What does Anders think of that?”

“It appears he also prefers to remain on the floor,” said Justice with a small shake of his head. “Just as I think I have begun to understand mortals, you continue to find new ways to surprise me.”

“I should hope so,” Hawke said, laughing as he wrapped closer around the baffled spirit. “We’re still just getting started.”


End file.
